"Like clouds kissed by the sun, some people leave behind a color you can’t name."
✧ moon junhui x f!oc
✧ kwon hoshi x f!oc
✧ summary: She came to Seoul to escape—what she found instead was him. Jun, unreadable and magnetic. Hoshi, warm but just out of reach. As feelings blur and moments slip by, Min Ah realizes not everything beautiful is meant to last. Some storms come softly. Some leave a mess behind.
✧ word count: 4k
✧ tags: emotional angst, fleeting connection, unresolved tension, office romance, love triangle, slow burn, banter, eventual smut
✧ warnings: one-night stand, heartbreak themes, drinking, suggestive scenes, alcohol use, suggestive content, emotional pining, sexual scenes
Chapter 13
2:37
Discord ping echoed from everyone's device
One single, unassuming notification in the #general channel. From the one, the only: Dokyeom.
Team Artois, assemble! Urgent 5-min huddle at 3PM. Trust me, you’re gonna love this (mandatory).
Mandatory.
And yet it had the vibes of an unhinged reality show twist.
Min Ah stared at the message like it was a personal attack. Her fingers paused mid-typing. Her brain? Immediately in crisis.
“What is he up to now,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes.
Eunji rolled over in her chair like a harbinger of doom. “Place your bets. Last time he said ‘you’re gonna love this,’ we ended up doing a week of TikTok content strategy in VR goggles.”
Min Ah groaned. “I still get migraines when I hear the word ‘metaverse.’”
Meanwhile, across the office, Hoshi was trying so hard not to look at her that it physically hurt. His jaw was clenched, his cursor blinking on an empty Notion page. The scent of Min Ah’s grapefruit perfume had reached him approximately ten minutes ago and he had not been okay since.
They hadn’t talked about it. Well—okay—they had. Briefly. In the awkward, hungover haze of Sunday morning, followed by the Monday-of-all-Mondays in the office. But everything since then had been... careful. Cautious. Every conversation felt like walking a tightrope over a pool of unresolved sexual tension and emotional confusion.
And Min Ah?
Oh, she was losing it. Quietly. Slowly. Spectacularly.
Because somehow—some how—she had woken up in his bed and not regretted it.
No, scratch that. She regretted the chaos. The lack of memory. The part where she said Yuji Itadori in bed. She would never emotionally recover from that, in like, forever.
But him?
She hadn’t minded waking up next to him.
She’d minded it too little. And that was the problem.
Her phone buzzed with a message from Eunji:
[My Eunjinji]
bets on whether dokyeom’s surprise is a weekend getaway or human sacrifice?
[min ah]
what if it’s both
Dokyeom’s voice snapped them all to attention. “EVERYONE! MEETING TIME!”
He stood near the whiteboard like he was hosting the Hunger Games.
The marketing team trickled in: Min Ah, Eunji, Dahyun, a couple of interns, and Hoshi—who kept a whole extra chair between himself and Min Ah like they were at Catholic school mass.
Manager Kim arrived last, clutching a cold brew and already sighing.
Dokyeom beamed. iPad in hand. Suspicious twinkle in his eye.
“So!” he announced. “We’ve been absolutely crushing it, team. Insane engagement numbers. Client love letters. Even that chaotic Halloween reel went semi-viral—shoutout to Hoshi’s choreography and Min Ah’s wig sacrifice.”
Min Ah visibly flinched. Hoshi stifled a grin.
Dokyeom flipped to a slide titled:
GLAMPING TRIP: TEAM BONDING 2025
The room exploded.
“GLAMPING?!”
“This WEEKEND?!”
“Are there bathrooms??”
“Is this going to be like Squid Game?!”
Dokyeom raised his hands like Moses parting the Red Sea. “It’s all handled! We’re going to a curated glamping site in Gapyeong. Domes. Heaters. Projectors. Mood lighting. And of course—team bonding activities!”
Eunji snorted. “Are you trying to kill us or make us fall in love?”
Dokyeom winked. “Why not both?”
Min Ah choked on air.
“Wait, Gapyeong? Like autumn foliage, fairy lights, romcom energy Gapyeong?” she asked weakly.
Dokyeom nodded. “That’s the one. I already booked the place. Bus leaves Saturday at 7AM sharp.”
A small sound escaped her—half gasp, half soul-leaving-body. She felt Hoshi’s gaze flick toward her. She didn’t look back.
“Teams and tents will be randomly assigned,” Dokyeom added gleefully. “So no one can rig it to bunk with their crush—I’m watching you, Dahyun.”
“Excuse me?!” Dahyun shouted.
Eunji leaned over and stage-whispered to Min Ah, “He’s not wrong though.”
Min Ah wanted to sink into the floor.
“Anyway,” Dokyeom grinned. “Pack warm clothes, snacks, and a winning attitude. Dismissed!”
As the team shuffled back to their desks, Eunji was already complaining about the cold, the bugs, and the possibility of sharing a dome with Manager Kim.
Dahyun wiggled her eyebrows at Min Ah. “So. You, me, campfire horror stories, and thermoses full of wine?”
Min Ah forced a smile. “Only if you promise not to livestream my mental breakdown.”
—
It was too early to be awake, too cold to be cheerful, and much too soon to be making eye contact with Hoshi in broad daylight.
Min Ah pulled her hoodie tighter around her neck as she stood on the sidewalk in front of The Parc lobby, surrounded by a sleepy, semi-conscious gathering of coworkers. The team looked like a very specific breed of hungover penguins—everyone bundled up in mismatched hoodies, sneakers, and the occasional very questionable pajama pant.
Dokyeom, naturally, was wearing sunglasses and fingerless gloves. He raised both arms like Moses parting the Red Sea when the bus arrived. “Children of capitalism! Your carriage awaits!”
The Artois team let out a collective groan.
Min Ah was about to climb up the steps when Eunji nudged her sharply in the ribs. “You’re sitting next to Hoshi.”
“What?” Min Ah blinked, mid-step.
Eunji grinned, whispering like an agent of chaos. “I made sure of it. I told Dahyun I get motion sickness unless I sit in the front, and then I told Jaemin I’d save him a seat in the back. So the middle’s wide open… just for you two.”
“That’s manipulative.”
“You're welcome,” Eunji beamed.
Min Ah turned around, ready to protest, but then—of course—Hoshi appeared behind her. Hoodie, sweats, sneakers, coffee in hand. His hair was still damp from a rushed morning shower, and when their eyes met, he smiled that awkward, too-polite smile that meant I’m still thinking about that thing we’re pretending didn’t happen.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” she replied, clutching her backpack like it might shield her from reality.
The bus door hissed open.
They climbed aboard.
And just like Eunji orchestrated, the only two seats left in the middle were right next to each other. A little too close. A little too fate.
Min Ah slid in first, mumbling something about “window seats” while already feeling her cheeks burn. Hoshi followed, settling next to her with just a hint too much space between their thighs—like he was trying not to touch her, and somehow that made the air even thicker.
The bus roared to life. They lurched forward.
And so began the quietest, most deafening 90 minutes of her life.
Min Ah tried to focus on the trees outside. Hoshi kept sipping his coffee like it was the only thing anchoring him to this realm.
A few rows back, Dokyeom whispered something to Eunji and they both snorted. The guy from finance Jaemin’s obnoxious laugh echoed off the windows. Dahyun was already asleep, earbuds in, neck pillow secured like she was entering hibernation. The vibe on the bus was pure chaos-meets-naptime.
Min Ah stole a glance at Hoshi. His hood was down now, and a soft tuft of dark brown hair stuck out awkwardly at the back. He looked peaceful, if not slightly constipated with anxiety.
Suddenly, a small bump in the road sent them jolting—and his thigh bumped into hers.
She stiffened.
So did he.
“Sorry,” he said quickly, retreating an inch.
“It’s okay,” she replied, voice tighter than her backpack straps.
Silence.
More silence.
Then—
“You brought snacks?” Hoshi asked, eyes flicking to her tote bag like it was the most interesting object in the universe.
“Um. Dried mango,” she said, digging through it. “Also seaweed crisps and those weird lemon gummies from Japan.”
He perked up. “Those slap.”
She handed him one wordlessly.
He took it with a shy grin. “Thanks.”
They chewed in awkward synchrony. The gummies tasted like citrus and tension.
Eventually, the bus quieted. Heads tilted back. Curtains drawn. Someone played a lo-fi playlist from their phone. The mood shifted—soft and sleepy.
Min Ah yawned.
Hoshi leaned his head back against the seat.
Their shoulders barely touched.
She should’ve pulled away. Really, she should’ve.
But it was warm. And comfortable. And… okay, sue her—he smelled good. That familiar faint trace of laundry detergent and aftershave and something distinctly him. Not romantic. Not emotional.
Just… human.
Min Ah’s eyes fluttered closed.
Somewhere between Seoul and Gapyeong, she fell asleep.
—
It started as a soft weight.
Something resting against her head.
Min Ah blinked slowly awake, disoriented.
She’d slumped sideways, and her cheek was now pressed against a solid, warm surface. Her nose brushed against fabric.
Her pillow had abs.
She froze.
Hoshi.
She’d fallen asleep on Hoshi.
Correction: with Hoshi. Because he, too, was completely knocked out—head tilted slightly to the side, lips parted, breathing slow. His face was so close. Too close. His brow furrowed slightly, like he was dreaming of something confusing. Maybe how they ended up like this. Maybe how she ended up like this.
Min Ah was about to move—about to gently slide away—when a loud snap echoed through the bus.
Eunji’s phone camera.
No.
“EUNJI,” Min Ah hissed, too late.
Eunji turned around from two rows back, holding her phone like a prized Pokémon. “Sorry, but I had to. You two look like a couple in a Netflix K-drama promo poster.”
“DELETE IT.”
“Too late. It’s already in the Artois group chat. Dokyeom added emojis.”
Min Ah groaned. She buried her face deeper into Hoshi’s hoodie-covered chest, fully giving up on the idea of dignity.
Hoshi stirred. “Hmm?” he mumbled.
She looked up, flustered. “Sorry—I—uh—you were—sleeping—I—”
He blinked, dazed. “You smell like lemon.”
“What?!”
“I think I drooled on your hair,” he added, half-asleep, totally shameless.
Min Ah stared at him, mortified.
But he just smiled, eyes fluttering shut again.
“Five more minutes,” he whispered. “Then we face the consequences.”
—
By the time the bus rolled into the glamping site, chaos had fully reawakened.
Eunji was telling everyone about the “accidental couple pic.” Dokyeom had changed his KakaoTalk profile photo to a blurry zoom-in of Min Ah curled against Hoshi’s chest. Jaemin made an offhand comment about how “cozy” they looked, waggling his eyebrows until Dahyun smacked him with a pillow.
And Hoshi?
Hoshi just walked beside Min Ah like nothing happened. A calm in the storm. Like he didn’t even know they were slowly becoming the plot of a Tumblr fic.
Min Ah hated how steady he looked.
Because she was not steady.
Her brain was still catching up.
With the night they didn’t talk about.
With the morning they tried to laugh through.
With the fact that she had just spent ninety whole minutes sleeping against someone she had accidentally, emotionally, and physically tangled herself with.
And the worst part?
She hadn’t hated it.
Not even a little bit.
She glanced at Hoshi out of the corner of her eye. He caught her. Smiled, soft.
Her heart did something stupid.
“Welcome to Ga-blemping Heaven!” Dokyeom declared, arms wide as they stood at the edge of the forested site. Rows of beige canvas tents glowed under the early afternoon sun. String lights hung from pine trees. There was a firepit, a grill, a small stage with a karaoke mic already plugged in. Fairy lights twinkled like they were ready for romance and ruin.
“Let the bonding begin,” Eunji said ominously.
Hoshi elbowed Min Ah gently. “Still time to fake an injury and go home.”
Min Ah shook her head. “Nah. I think I want to see where this disaster goes.”
He looked at her a moment longer. “Me too.”
The glamping site was, objectively, disgustingly aesthetic.
Like someone had curated a Pinterest board titled “Autumn Cozy Forest Romance, But Make It Corporate Retreat” and then manifested it with unlimited budget. Rows of cream canvas bell tents lined a gravel path, string lights looped between trees like warm halos, and fairy lights blinked lazily above fire pits and bean bags. There was even an espresso cart. With a barista. Wearing a beanie. In the forest. Capitalism had officially won.
Min Ah looked around with cautious awe, tugging her overnight bag higher on her shoulder. “Why does this feel like an Instagram influencer’s wet dream?”
“Because it is,” Eunji muttered beside her. “I checked the geo-tag. This place is a wedding venue on weekends.”
Dokyeom clapped his hands loudly from the center of the clearing, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright, Artois troops!” he said with far too much energy for someone wearing socks with Birkenstocks. “Let’s do the rooming assignments!”
A collective groan echoed through the crowd. Everyone knew the horror of room assignments during overnight company events. The drama. The betrayal. The unspoken wars.
“Don’t worry,” Dokyeom said, waving a crumpled paper. “I’ve randomized it. Equal gender distribution, two per tent. Very fair.”
Min Ah narrowed her eyes. That sounded… suspiciously too fair.
One by one, people were called up to receive their tent numbers.
“Eunji with Dahyun.”
“Manager Kim with Senior Seo.”
“Hyunwoo with Hyojin.”
The line moved. Bags dragged. People scattered. Tents filled up.
Min Ah waited, rocking on her heels. Hoshi stood a few paces away, hands in his coat pockets, eyes on the ground. They hadn’t really talked since the bus incident. Since the nap. Since her head accidentally landed on his shoulder and stayed there. Since someone took a photo of it and now it lived in the group chat as everyone’s favorite new meme.
“And that just leaves…” Dokyeom paused, scanning the remaining names. His eyes lit up like a man watching chaos bloom.
“…Hoshi and Min Ah.”
They both froze.
Min Ah blinked. “Wait. That can’t be right.”
Hoshi straightened. “No no, there’s gotta be someone else—”
“Nope,” Dokyeom said cheerfully. “We had an odd number of both guys and girls. Math is math. Tent 9. Enjoy the bonding!”
And just like that, he walked off.
Min Ah stood there, blinking, brain buffering.
Hoshi turned to her slowly. “…I swear I didn’t plan this.”
“Did I say you did?”
“You looked at me like I set the tent trap.”
“Well maybe you did in your sleep while snoring on my shoulder.”
“I do not snore—”
“You absolutely do.”
They stared at each other.
Silence.
A squirrel ran past.
Somewhere, a leaf dramatically fell.
“Okay,” Hoshi said finally, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re adults. It’s just one night.”
“Right. We shared a bed before and lived to tell the tale.”
He coughed. “Barely.”
She looked away. “Tent 9?”
“Lead the way.”
As they made their way toward Tent 9, Min Ah could feel the looks.
Not in a scandalous way—just the quiet, knowing glances exchanged between coworkers who knew just enough to guess something spicy might be going on. Eunji gave her a grin that said we’ll talk later. Manager Kim looked like he had bet on this pairing and was winning money in a secret Slack channel.
Tent 9 stood at the very edge of the campgrounds. A little more private. A little more removed. A little too romantic for something that was definitely not supposed to be romantic.
Inside, it was deceptively cute.
Two twin fluffy heated mattresses. A little lantern hanging from the ceiling. A woven rug. Even a fake potted plant in the corner like a passive-aggressive decoration from Hoshi’s apartment.
Min Ah dropped her bag with a thud and immediately sat on the left bed. “This one’s mine. No negotiations.”
Hoshi flopped onto the other bed. “Fine. I didn’t want to sleep near the fake ficus anyway.”
She tossed him a look. “You’re weirdly good at this.”
“At what?”
“This. The… acting normal. Like we didn’t—like nothing happened.”
His face twitched, just slightly. “Do you want me to act differently?”
“No,” she said too quickly. “I mean—yes. No. I don’t know.”
He smiled faintly, eyes on the ceiling. “We could always build a wall of pillows.”
“A Berlin Wall of Shame.”
“Exactly. Keep the Cold War vibes alive.”
She snorted, then sighed, sinking back into her mattress. The tent was quiet except for the muffled laughter of their coworkers outside, and the occasional rustle of leaves.
Min Ah glanced sideways.
Hoshi had one arm slung over his eyes. His mouth was tugged in a smile that didn’t reach his cheeks. His other hand rested on his stomach, fingers twitching.
Her heart twisted.
The dream had felt like Jun. The aftermath had felt like grief.
But this?
This just felt like… a beginning she didn’t know how to name yet.
Outside, someone shouted that dinner would be served soon. The crackle of a bonfire started somewhere near the main pit.
“Let’s just get through tonight,” she said softly.
Hoshi peeked over at her. “Survive now, overthink later?”
She nodded.
He smiled again. “Signal received.”
She rolled her eyes.
But her chest felt a little lighter.
Like maybe this wasn’t a mistake.
Maybe it was just… step one.
—
If there was one thing worse than tent-sharing with your very confusing almost-hookup-almost-crush coworker, it was publicly pairing up with said coworker for trust-building exercises led by a man in cargo shorts with an actual whistle.
“Alright, Artois troops!” Dokyeom yelled, hopping onto a tree stump like a deranged camp counselor. “Next up in our magical glamping bonding journey: team activities!”
A collective groan echoed through the trees.
Hoshi muttered, “Why does he sound like a PE teacher on crack?”
Min Ah elbowed him. “Shut up or he’ll assign you to the three-legged race with Manager Kim.”
That shut him up real fast.
The group was herded into a clearing near the edge of the forest, where several suspiciously cute activity stations had been set up. A macramé rope swing. An obstacle course made from string and pool noodles. A stack of hula hoops and—god help them—a blindfolded trust-walk zone.
“Pick a partner!” Dokyeom called out. “We’ll rotate later!”
Everyone scattered like cockroaches.
Dahyun sprinted toward Eunji. Soobin grabbed Jisoo. Even Hyunwoo and Manager Kim had some weird synchronized nod thing going.
Min Ah turned around, scanning—
Only to find Hoshi already standing beside her, hands in his pockets, awkward little smile blooming on his face.
“…Guess it’s us,” he said.
Her heart did that annoying little skip. “Guess so.”
They were assigned to the trust fall first. Classic. Cruel. Criminal.
Hoshi stood behind her, arms out. “Okay. Just lean back. I’ve got you.”
Min Ah eyed him suspiciously. “Promise you won’t let me die?”
“I swear on my glasses collection.”
“…Wow. High stakes.”
She took a breath. Closed her eyes. And fell.
His arms caught her with ridiculous ease—strong, steady, warm.
“See?” he murmured. “Safe.”
Her heart stuttered. Stupid heart. “Yeah.”
She stepped away quickly, cheeks burning. “Your turn.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You gonna catch me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He smirked. “You’d catch me. You like me.”
“Excuse me—”
But he was already falling back.
She yelped and lunged forward—caught him with a startled oof, his weight slamming into her arms.
“SEE?” he grinned upside down. “You like me.”
“I hate you,” she gasped, laughing. “You’re so heavy—what the hell—are you carrying trauma in your pockets?!”
“I carry my issues everywhere. It’s my gym routine.”
She shoved him away, still laughing, and they moved on to the next station: the hand-tied maze. Basically, their wrists were bound together with a rope, and they had to navigate a path without letting go.
It was a disaster.
Every turn, every tug, every misstep brought them closer. Hoshi cursed under his breath when he almost tripped, dragging Min Ah down with him.
“Stop pulling!”
“You’re the one zigzagging like a drunk pigeon!”
“You smell like glitter and shame!”
“You said I smelled good yesterday!”
“That was before I remembered you put my wig in a microwave!”
They finally stumbled out of the maze—sweaty, breathless, and tangled.
A few claps came from their coworkers, but mostly everyone was just filming for future blackmail.
Min Ah collapsed on the grass, tugging at the knot on her wrist. “Who even designed this? A sadist?”
“Probably Dokyeom,” Hoshi said, panting beside her. “This has his chaotic evil fingerprints all over it.”
She leaned back on her elbows, watching the clouds shift lazily overhead.
Hoshi looked over at her.
She glanced at him, "What?"
“I didn’t hate that.”
“Which part? The falling? The insults? The rope burn?”
He smiled. “Being stuck to you.”
…Silence.
She looked away. “You’re such a flirt.”
“I’m not flirting,” he said, softer now. “Not really.”
She didn’t answer. But her fingers brushed his for just a second. Light. Uncertain. Real.
Then someone called out: “BONFIRE IN FIFTEEN! BRING YOUR CHAOS ENERGY!”
The spell broke.
Min Ah stood up and dusted off her pants. “Better get ready.”
Hoshi stayed seated, looking up at her like she was made of starlight and static.
“Hey,” he said.
She looked back.
He smiled, lopsided. “You’re really pretty when you’re annoyed.”
Her face flushed. “You’re lucky I don’t push you into the lake.”
“Worth it,” he said.
As they walked back toward the tents, side by side, brushing shoulders—
The air between them buzzed with everything unsaid.
And neither of them knew it yet, but the fire that night?
Wasn’t just coming from the bonfire.
—
The stars above were shy tonight, ducking behind the clouds as if even they didn’t want to witness the disaster unfolding below.
The bonfire cracked, sending embers dancing into the crisp night air. Fairy lights strung from tree to tree glowed like twinkling secrets, barely lighting the circle of chaos about to begin.
Dokyeom stood in the center, arms outstretched, ladle in one hand, the glint of evil in his eyes.
“Alright, delinquents!” he shouted. “The time has come. The game that will either bond us for life or completely destroy our dignity: Spill or Kiss!”
A few people groaned.
Soobin whispered, “He’s drunk on power. Someone stop him.”
“Too late,” Dahyun said, popping a marshmallow into her mouth.
The group started forming a loose circle—some sat on plaid picnic blankets, others on camping stools or straight on the gravel, bundled in hoodies and blankets. Hot chocolate steamed in mugs. Someone had brought an acoustic speaker softly playing retro K-pop in the background—Twice’s Signal, of course, as if the universe was in on the joke.
And just like fate had been doing all weekend, it struck again.
Min Ah ended up next to Dahyun.
And Hoshi.
Again.
The universe was not subtle.
“Okay, rules are simple,” Dokyeom beamed, dramatically clicking his pen. “One personal, mildly soul-crushing question. If you don’t answer, you kiss the person to your right. You must do one.”
“Wait—must?” Jisoo frowned.
“Yes,” Dokyeom said. “You cannot escape. This is a legally binding game in the woods.”
“Great,” muttered Min Ah. “This is how we die. Publicly. Emotionally.”
They started clockwise.
The first few rounds were hilarious. Dahyun was asked if she ever stalked her ex on LinkedIn (“obviously,” she said, sipping hot cocoa). Soobin got grilled about the weirdest thing he’s ever Googled drunk. (“How many raccoons can I legally own in South Korea.”)
Manager Kim was asked who in the office he’d fire if he could. He stared at Soobin for a full 10 seconds before leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. “Too dangerous,” he said.
Then it happened.
Eunji turned, oh-so-innocently, toward Min Ah.
“Min Ah,” he said sweetly, as if he wasn’t the human embodiment of chaos. “Your turn.”
Min Ah blinked. “Okay. Hit me.”
Eunji's smile sharpened.
“Did you ever sleep with someone from the office?”
The bonfire might as well have exploded.
Gasps. Laughter. Someone choked on their drink.
Min Ah stared at him, mouth hanging open.
“WHAT?!”
Eunji threw her arms up. “It’s a fair question!”
“THAT’S A MINEFIELD,” Hoshi hissed beside her, already paling.
Min Ah’s brain went into a tailspin. Her hands started sweating. Her soul left her body, hovered above the glamping tent, and said, this is why we don’t go on company retreats, babe.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
She could feel Hoshi freeze next to her.
She looked at Eunji. “I’m not answering that.”
“Rules are rules,” Dokyeom sang. “Kiss the person on your right~”
The world tilted.
Min Ah turned her head slowly. Met Hoshi’s eyes.
The firelight danced across his features—his skin flushed, lips parted slightly, like he couldn’t decide whether to run or pass out.
The rest of the circle leaned in as one.
“Well?” Dahyun whispered, eyes gleaming. “Let’s goooo.”
Min Ah licked her lips. “This is stupid,” she mumbled.
Hoshi gave a breathless little laugh. “Yeah.”
Beat.
“You okay?” she whispered.
He nodded, just once. “Yeah. You?”
Min Ah’s voice was barely there. “I think so.”
She leaned in.
So did he.
And then—
Their lips touched.
Not for long. Not deep. But not nothing.
It was soft. Still.
Like time had slipped out of gear and for one perfect second, everything just... paused.
Her lips trembled against his.
His hand—somehow—found her knee. Gentle. Grounding.
When they pulled back, the air between them shimmered.
And then—chaos.
“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“DID Y’ALL SEE THAT?!”
“WAIT HOLD UP—THAT WAS NOT A GAME KISS!”
Eunji actually threw her cup in the air.
Dahyun screamed into a pillow.
Soobin clutched Manager Kim’s sleeve and whisper-yelled, “OH MY GOD SHE DID SLEEP WITH SOMEONE IN THE OFFICE.”
Min Ah immediately hid her face in both hands. “I want to die.”
Hoshi choked on his own breath, eyes wide. “That was—no—that’s not—”
“You put your hand on her knee, bro,” Dokyeom said smugly, sipping cider like tea. “It’s over. Just elope now.”
“I’M NEVER PLAYING THIS GAME AGAIN,” Min Ah shrieked.
Eunji pounced on her. “Wait wait wait wait wait—WAS IT HIM?!”
Min Ah yelped. “NO COMMENT—”
“OH MY GOD IT WAS HIM.”
Hoshi made a noise like a dying duck. “I’m deceased. This is my funeral.”
But beneath all the panic and teasing—
Min Ah risked a glance at him.
He was already looking at her.
Their eyes met.
And this time…
They didn’t look away.
He mouthed: You okay?
She gave the smallest nod. You?
He smiled—crooked, nervous, warm. Better than okay.
Her stomach flipped.
Somewhere in the trees, an owl hooted. Somewhere across the fire, Eunji was still interrogating her with aggressive marshmallows. And somewhere in her chest, a feeling that started as chaos…
Was starting to feel like something else.
Something dangerous.
Something real.
—
The fire had died down to coals, and the night had sobered into stillness.
No more cheers. No more music. Just the soft rustle of wind threading through the trees, and the occasional muffled giggle from tents where the Artois crew was still probably sharing ghost stories or meme recaps of the day.
Min Ah lingered at the edge of the firepit like she was stalling time.
Her heart had stopped doing backflips about fifteen minutes ago—but now it was pacing. Cautious. Unsure.
Because she still felt it. That kiss.
Not the pressure of it, or the spark—it hadn’t been some steamy, cinematic, fireworks-exploding kind of kiss. But it had landed—like a small asteroid quietly crashing into the planet she called her emotional stability.
The truth was, it didn’t feel like acting.
And that scared the living hell out of her.
She tightened her cardigan around herself and turned toward their tent—their shared tent, because of course fate would trap her overnight with the same man she’d kissed in front of all their coworkers.
The tent looked cozy from a distance. Soft lantern glow seeping through the canvas, shadows swaying gently inside. A cream bubble of forced intimacy.
Her palms were sweaty.
Min Ah took a breath and unzipped the flap.
“Zrrrp.”
Hoshi was sitting up inside, cross-legged on a rolled-out sleeping mat. He looked up immediately. Like he’d been waiting.
“Oh,” he said. “Hey.”
His hair was still fluffy from the wind, his hoodie half unzipped. He had taken off the cat ears from earlier, but a faint glitter trail still clung to his jaw. The soft light made him look warm. Real.
Too real.
Min Ah stepped in and zipped the flap back up behind her. It was quieter instantly. Just the two of them and the hum of air.
“Hi,” she said.
They both just… stood there.
Or rather—he sat, she stood, awkward like someone caught in a very polite home invasion.
“You can sit,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Oh. Right.”
She eased down across from him, sitting a bit stiffly, pulling her knees up like a protective fortress. The blanket underneath them was soft and smelled like detergent and forest. Their shoulders weren’t quite touching. But her body felt hyperaware. Every shift of his weight. Every exhale.
A minute passed. Maybe two.
“…So,” he said eventually. “That happened.”
Min Ah glanced at him. “You mean the group-wide public workplace HR scandal that was our lips touching for five seconds?”
Hoshi huffed a quiet laugh. “That one, yeah.”
They both went quiet again.
Min Ah reached down and picked at a loose thread on the hem of her pants. “It didn’t… feel like a game.”
Hoshi turned slightly toward her. “No,” he said, voice low. “It didn’t.”
She looked down. “I think that’s what freaks me out the most.”
He nodded. Not pushing. Just listening.
“I thought it was going to be, like—just a dumb dare. Haha, funny, wow, scandalous. But then I kissed you and it felt like my body didn’t get the memo that it was a joke.” She paused. “It felt like my body… already knew yours.”
Her voice faltered at the end, like the truth had snuck up on her mid-sentence.
Hoshi didn’t speak for a moment.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Same.”
She lifted her head slightly.
“I’ve imagined it before,” he admitted, not meeting her eyes. “Not like in a gross way—okay sometimes in a gross way—but also… like this. Quiet. Real. Like we’re just… here. Talking about it.”
Min Ah’s breath caught.
He added quickly, “You don’t have to say anything. I’m not asking for anything. I just— I don’t want you to think it was nothing. Or that I kissed you just because of the game.”
Her throat felt tight.
“I didn’t hate it,” she said quietly.
Their eyes met.
That changed the air.
It got heavier. Not tense, not bad—just charged. Like something was finally stepping into the room between them and refusing to pretend it didn’t exist anymore.
“I don’t know what to do with all this,” Min Ah said honestly. “I’m still kind of in this… grief haze. And the Jun stuff, it’s—God, it’s still there. I haven’t moved on. I don’t even think I’ve really started to. And then I go and do this—sleep with you, kiss you, laugh with you like we’re fine, and I don’t know if it’s real or if I’m just looking for a bandaid.”
Her voice cracked at the edges.
Hoshi listened. Like really listened. Like he wasn’t bracing for rejection, just… letting her be messy.
Min Ah wrapped her arms around her knees. “But I don’t regret it.”
That surprised her even as she said it.
“I thought I would,” she continued. “When I woke up in your bed, I thought I’d want to disappear. But I didn’t. And tonight—I didn’t kiss you because I was pretending. I kissed you because…”
She trailed off. Bit her lip. “Because it felt good. To want someone and not have to hurt for it.”
Hoshi exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding that breath the entire time.
—
They sat in it. The quiet. The admission. The flicker of something that wasn’t quite peace, but wasn’t panic anymore either.
After a moment, Min Ah smiled faintly. “Also, your lips are really soft.”
Hoshi looked scandalized. “Excuse me?”
“Like unnaturally soft. Are you using a gloss? Is it Fenty?”
“I will neither confirm nor deny my allegiance to Rihanna.”
She laughed, head falling to her knees.
He watched her like she was the only light in the room.
Outside, the fire had gone out. The wind picked up, rustling the trees in that way that made it feel like the forest was whispering secrets. Inside the tent, it was quiet—too quiet.
Min Ah shivered.
Just slightly.
But Hoshi noticed. He always noticed.
“You cold?”
She shrugged. “I’m fine.”
Hoshi tilted his head. “You’re visibly trembling.”
“I said I’m fine, Captain Sweatpants.”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman, Min Ah, not a heater.”
“Maybe try harder.”
But her teeth chattered right at the end, betraying her entirely.
Hoshi sighed, then looked toward the two single beds lined up against opposite sides of the tent—perfectly reasonable, perfectly HR-safe. Then he looked back at her, and the universe collectively held its breath.
“…Do you want to come here?” he asked, voice cautious.
She blinked. “Come where?”
He patted the space beside him. His sleeping bag was half-zipped, his body already curled up in a heap of blanket and warmth. His sweatpants peeked out beneath the edge, and for some reason, that made everything feel ten times more dangerous.
Min Ah stared at him.
Then at the other bed.
Then back at him.
She crossed her arms. “This is a trap.”
“It’s literally not.”
“You say that, but then you pull out the lip balm and suddenly I’m compromised.”
“Min Ah.”
“Hoshi.”
Another gust of wind howled outside. The fabric of the tent flapped slightly, and her shoulders curled inward.
She groaned. “If I wake up in your arms again, I’m suing.”
“No comment.”
Slowly—so slowly—she crawled over, dragging her blanket like a defeated ghost. She flopped onto his bed and immediately sighed at the warmth.
“…Don’t make it weird,” she mumbled, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
“Me? Make it weird?” Hoshi said. “Never. I’m the pinnacle of platonic behavior.”
“Uh-huh.”
They lay like that for a moment—awkward, stiff, two human icicles trying to defrost without igniting something irreversible.
Eventually, Min Ah shifted. Her arm brushed his.
Hoshi froze.
Then he shifted, too. Their legs tangled slightly, socks brushing. She kicked him once—lightly.
“Your feet are cold,” she muttered.
“So are yours,” he shot back. “This is a hate cuddle now.”
“You’re lucky I’m too tired to murder you.”
“You’re lucky I’m letting you freeload my body heat.”
“Shut up and hold me.”
That came out before she could think about it.
Hoshi’s breath caught.
And then—he moved. Gently. Tentatively. One arm sliding around her waist, the other adjusting the blanket so it cocooned them both. She nestled into his chest, her face pressed somewhere near the crook of his neck.
His heartbeat was loud.
So was hers.
This was a mistake.
This was a terrible idea.
This was…
…kind of perfect.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she whispered.
“I can,” Hoshi replied, voice low. “I’ve kind of wanted to for a while.”
That made her look up—just slightly. Her eyes met his in the dark.
“You're an idiot,” she sighed.
She could kiss him right now.
He could kiss her.
But they didn’t.
Instead, she pressed her forehead to his collarbone and whispered, “Let’s just sleep.”
And he whispered back, “Okay.”
They lay like that—tangled, warm, too aware—and somewhere between heartbeats, Min Ah’s last thought before sleep found her again was:
You didn’t kiss me like someone pretending.
And maybe…
She didn’t kiss him like that, either.